


Let Us Be (And Also Not Be)

by amelioratedays



Category: GOT7
Genre: 2Jae, Aro!Jaebum, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3218222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choi Youngjae is a sap and he figures Im Jaebum would be a hopeless romantic as well. He finds out though, that Jaebum was quite the contrary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Us Be (And Also Not Be)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I ever make coherent sense of my feelings and emotions.

Choi Youngjae is a sap. There’s not much denying it when he’s spent most of his life indulging himself in heartfelt ballads and rainy days. He’s spent a good amount of time during his earlier school years imagining his yet-to-be romances to be filled with falling flower petals, soft smiles and crinkling eyes. Life would probably seem like spring days and soft photo filters. A song by Nell would probably be his background music. And on days where things aren’t soft or lovely, he reckons there’d be some grungy vintage filter accompanied by a heart wrenching ballad from one of his many ‘for-a-bad-day’ playlists.

 

He figures Jaebum would be a hopeless romantic as well, judging from his aesthetics for grainy greyscale photo filters, standoffish cats, soulful bus vacations, and sickeningly sweet R&B music. Life is a complex haze for Im Jaebum and although Youngjae questions his leader’s eccentric _artistic_ taste, he finds himself falling deeper within the depths of the older male’s mind. It’s not that hard, considering how much they had in common  (He’s pretty sure they’d be able to ace any telepathic game that pops up in their variety show career) and how much time he can spend looking at Jaebum’s side profile three o’clock in the morning.

 

Jaebum was the last to reach out his hand amongst the six, stoic eyes staring into Youngjae’s own as he introduced himself. He speaks in a tone that reflects the harsh winds of Seoul and Youngjae feels his hands go clammy. Fingers fidgeting with the hem of his obviously unstylish tee, Youngjae loses the confidence to speak with his accented Korean. So he ends up nodding, warmth spreading from his neck to his cheeks as he focuses his vision to the wooden floor. Jackson lets out a chuckle attempting to dispel the lingering awkwardness and Jinyoung throws an arm over his shoulder. He doesn’t get to shake Jaebum’s hand in the end, but he’s kind of glad seeing as his hands were still clammy and cold. Youngjae thinks they’re as cold as Jaebum’s eyes.

 

Jaebum is the last of many things to Youngjae, one of which is the last to leave the practice room. He sends the members off with a curt nod (and also a smack on Jackson’s neck) before turning his attention back on Youngjae. The scrutinizing makes the hairs on the back of Youngjae’s neck stand still, a chill overtaking his body as Jaebum lets out a short; “Again.” The ever cold city dweller, Youngjae thinks. He tries again, stumbling over his feet to match up to music beats when Jaebum pauses the music.

 

“Again.”

 

Jaebum may be the last of many things to Youngjae, but he is also the first of many things. For example, he’s always the first of the six to find him sobbing in the practice studio. He’s always the first to come in, soundlessly sitting next to him on the small piano bench while Youngjae succumbs to the pressure of being thrown headfirst in an unfamiliar world where nothing he does is ever good enough. Where it’s too much to think about how much he lacks and how undeserving all his chances were. His eyes sting from hot tears and the air in his lungs escape him, shoulders trembling in vibrato. Jaebum never speaks at times like those, just leaning over slightly so that their shoulders touch as if to say, “It’s okay, I can be your support.” And Youngjae blinks through blurry tears, chest heaving from the lack of oxygen, to see the two stars upon Jaebum’s eyelids.

 

Jaebum is also the first to catch his faltering facade the day they move into the new dormitory. In the midst of everyone promising each other to be roommates, Youngjae searches for a pause to suggest he take the single room. But before he can voice his opinion, it’s Jaebum who speaks first. “We’re taking that room,” he announces and it’s not until Youngjae settles dazedly onto their mattress that he realizes “we” refers to “them”. Blinking up at Jaebum, the other returns his confounded look with a smile. It’s at times like these that Youngjae thinks Im Jaebum is just as heart warming as his home back in Mokpo. Jaebum is the first of many things, one of those being the first to enter Youngjae’s heart.

 

Choi Youngjae’s a sap and he finds himself living his sepia dreams of soft smiles and crinkling eyes.

 

But Im Jaebum, unfortunately, isn’t a hopeless romantic.

 

Youngjae finds out on a rainy day, where his emotions get the best of him, and in some crazed frenzy of unrequited love he absentmindedly says, “I think I like you.” They’re lying face to face on their shared mattress and the power of one-sided love runs strong when Youngjae strangely finds himself staying still. There’s no butterflies in his stomach nor the quickening of heartbeats. Youngjae thinks they’ve died from shock. The world is horribly calm, but so is Jaebum, and all they hear is the falling rain upon the window pane. Youngjae awaits oncoming rejection, the upheaval of emotions and the loud banging of the door with an awkward trepidation that works its way at the pace of a snail.

 

Except it never comes.

Jaebum simply shifts in his mound of blankets.

The door stays closed.

 

Youngjae’s met with a small “oh” from the older male before Jaebum turns on his back, staring emptily at the cracked ceiling. The rain salvages his awkward silence into white noise and Youngjae continues to stare at the leader’s side profile. “Oh?” He asks softly.

 

“Oh.” Jaebum repeats a while later, voice resonating in the quiet room. When Youngjae doesn’t speak, he does. “I don’t like you,” he says with a sigh, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. Youngjae doesn’t think he understands enough of Jaebum’s soul yet to find hidden words in his sentences. “I mean..” Jaebum starts again a few minutes later. “I like you, but I don’t like you.”

 

“I don’t like anyone actually.”

 

“I can’t like anyone?”  He finishes his soliloquy with the same questioning tone he started with and Youngjae notices the way the older male tensed under his layer of blankets. “Oh,” he says.

 

Im Jaebum isn’t a hopeless romantic, Youngjae finds out.

He’s hopelessly aromantic.

 

The white noise infiltrates the room and Youngjae pulls his blankets closer. “It’s okay,” he mumbles into the linen fabric. “You don’t have to like anybody.” Jaebum tugs a smile, reaching out for his wrist, and they communicate in soundless ways. Falling asleep at three twenty in the morning, Youngjae thinks Jaebum taps out a “thanks” in Morse code.

 

Youngjae is the first of many things to Im Jaebum, such as being the first to listen to Jaebum’s secret.

 

Nothing really changes after their daybreak confessions. Jaebum is still the last to leave the dance room and the first to find Youngjae when he hides in the practice studio. There’s too much to be preoccupied over with debut promotions piling up. But Youngjae still lets himself fall within the depths of Im Jaebum’s soul. It’s hard to rear himself, stopping mind and heart, when all he wants to do is lean back against Jaebum’s shoulder and say; “You don’t have to like me. I just happen to like you.” He brushes away the lingering thought of “Let me like you” as he settles upon the waiting room couch. Life is far too busy to deal with his existent yet nonexistent love line. And as the clock strikes twelve, he’s rushed onstage with six other boys to stand beneath blinding lights. Jaebum stands behind him and Youngjae’s peripheral vision finds him much too easily. The lights do nothing to obscure his line of vision; love doesn’t blind him either.

 

Youngjae is the first of many things to Im Jaebum, such as being the person that Jaebum tries to let into his heart. Sometimes Youngjae forgets how horribly perceptive their leader was, or maybe it was just that he couldn’t hide his own emotions, but Jaebum pulls him aside one night after practice. They sit side by side on the dingy piano bench, much too close for Youngjae’s comfort. He doesn’t speak at first, setting off the metronome—which ticked out of sync with the clock, also to Youngjae’s discomfort. “There’s always noise in our silences,” he mutters.

 

“Huh?”

 

“N-Nothing.” He stammers, stopping the metronome with his hand and pulling away so it falls into the right rhythm. “So...why are we here?” Youngjae asks.

 

“Aah, that.” Jaebum starts, absentmindedly pressing down chords. “It’s about last time.”

 

“Oh. Can’t we forget..about it?” He replies, fingers trying to play notes that harmonize.

 

“I’m okay if you’re okay with this.”

 

“With what?”

 

“With me never really loving you.” Jaebum stammers, faltering in a diminuendo. “With me never really _loving_ anyone.” He inhales a sharp breath, falling into rehearsed soliloquy. “I mean, I _like_ you a lot but I don’t _love_ you. I can hold your hand and still do everything that couples do, but I can’t reciprocate such intense emotions. But it’s not an offense and I would still _like_ you?” Giving a meek smile, Jaebum rubs the back of his neck. “Y-Yeah, sounds boring to spend the rest of your life with someone like that, right?”

 

Im Jaebum, Youngjae finds out, is a hopeless romantic after all.

 

And he bursts out in laughter, body slumping forward to hit the piano keys. Cacophony ensues, with howling laughter and a thunderstorm of baritone notes. Youngjae’s trying to catch his breath, eyes crinkling upwards while Jaebum looks at him in confusion (and also a slight tint of horror). And when Youngjae finally wills his heartbeat back to normal, he turns to look at their team’s leader. “You’re an idiot.”

 

“What?”

 

“You can’t love me, but you’ve already thought of spending the rest of your life with me?”

 

Jaebum doesn’t respond, cheeks flushing red and he tries to (ultimately failing) stammer a coherent reply. “No, you see...I—you.” Youngjae laughs again, high pitched laughter filling the studio as his eyes fall upon the flustered male. He’s been studying Im Jaebum’s soul (and also counting his eyelashes in the night time) long enough to read hidden sentences now. “Yeah, I get it. You _like_ me too.” Resting his head on Jaebum’s shoulder, Youngjae furrows his brows and deepens the tone of his voice; “You know that you’re the disposable one right? If I ever find anyone better, I will leave you.” He says it as a joke but Jaebum simply nods, slightly jostling Youngjae from his resting position. “Sorry.” Jaebum mutters. Youngjae chuckles, sound waves travelling to Jaebum’s spine. “It’s okay,” he concludes, “Not everyone loves in the same way. Not everyone has to love.” Jaebum laughs this time, hearty chuckles that resonate deep in Youngjae’s chest cavity. “At least I’m not aromantic _and_ asexual?” He says in attempt to ease the tension,  a wavering grin slightly blinding Youngjae’s corneas. “You can shut up now.” Youngjae replies, slapping a hand over the older male’s face.

 

Youngjae is the first of many things to Im Jaebum, such as being the first person to ever receive the title of being his “boyfriend.” Jaebum figures if anyone was willing to vow to live with his loveless self until the end of time, they’d be deserving of any title they want. “Dating” Im Jaebum doesn’t really change things either. Jaebum doesn’t miss Youngjae on empty nights, doesn’t feel butterflies fluttering about in his stomach, doesn’t have the overwhelming urge to hold his hand or kiss his forehead. The spark never ignites and Jaebum doesn’t dream of kissing Youngjae at early morning. But he remembers to bring Youngjae his dinner when the younger stays overtime in the practice room, and remembers to settle a hot cup of coffee on the living room table four thirty in the morning. Youngjae holds his hand during car rides, falls asleep on his shoulders backstage, whispers endless compliments to him. Life is still a complex haze for Im Jaebum, but he bypasses the black and white filters this time for one in soft pink. A Nell song plays from the car radio and he feels Youngjae smiling into his shoulder.

 

Youngjae never tells him “I love you” though, over conscious that Jaebum doesn’t reciprocate the exact type of feelings he harbours. But for the most part, Jaebum doesn’t mind saying it if it makes Youngjae happy. There’s not much to fuss over technicalities when they both understand the underlying meaning. And so Youngjae finds himself waking up one day to at least ten different love confessions from Jaebum on the World Wide Web.

 

_You cannot stop my love for you._

_You’re a mouse trapped in the jar._

“Are you serious?” He asks in bemusement, shaking off the growing smile on his face.

 

“You like hearing it.” The older male replies, pausing to flip to the next page of the novel he’s been reading for the past week. “It makes you happy.” Spring is in full bloom, flurries of flower petals from the blossoming tree near their dorm flow in through the open window. Youngjae doesn’t exactly have what he’d label as romance, but life is full of falling flower petals, soft smiles and crinkling eyes. “Thanks,” he says before picking up his coffee filled mug.

 

Not everyone loves in the same way.

Not everyone has to love.

**Author's Note:**

> I am Tweh Youngjae but I am also Im Jaebum.


End file.
